


Take What Was Wrong (And Make it Right)

by Politzania



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), Gen, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2019-07-11 10:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15970142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Politzania/pseuds/Politzania
Summary: Afghanistan took more from Tony Stark than most people understand; the surgery in the cave stealing his ability to fly.  But in the wake of the Battle of New York, Tony discovers an unexpected sympathizer.  However, the revelation of the Winter Soldier’s identity and his recovery spurs Tony to reach for the skies once again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Name of Piece: Take What Was Wrong (And Make it Right)  
> Square Filled: K4 - Flight  
> Rating: General (at least for now)  
> Warnings: angst, injury  
> Summary: Afghanistan took more from Tony Stark than most people understand; the surgery in the cave stealing his ability to fly. But in the wake of the Battle of New York, Tony discovers an unexpected sympathizer. The revelation of the Winter Soldier’s identity and his recovery spurs Tony to reach for the skies once again.  
> Eventual WinterIron -- possibly Stark Spangled Winter/Stuckony  
> Created For : @tonystarkbingo

Tony didn’t even want to look at his wings anymore; he kept them as tightly furled as a clenched fist, eventually designing a binder to cover and conceal them. Yinsen had sworn the procedure was the only option to save his life, carving his keel bone away to make room for the electromagnet that kept the shrapnel from entering his heart. But his fellow hostage wasn’t wingfolk; he could never understand what his desperate surgery had taken away from his patient. 

Pepper and Rhodey didn’t understand either. They assumed the Iron Man armor was Tony’s way of regaining the skies. But the shell of cold, hard metal was in no way a substitute for feeling the wind in his wings. Flying -- true flying -- had been one of the few joys of Tony Stark’s life, and now it was gone forever. 

Stane's betrayal was a different kind of pain; while Howard had treated Tony like a freak when his wings sprouted, Obie had taken it upon himself to support his godson. He was the one who sought out members of the wingfolk community, set up Tony’s lessons and was there to cheer him on for his first open-air flight. It was only after the fact that Tony wondered if Obadiah had intended that all as a distraction; so that the heir to Stark Industries would be too caught up in frivolous activities to be interested in running the company. But the untimely death of his parents had grounded Tony in more ways than one. Except for rare occasions, he kept his wings under wraps and behaved as if he were just like everyone else. 

Tony attempted to move past the loss of his freedom, to learn how to live with the machine in his chest. When he discovered that it was poisoning him -- well, that was insult heaped upon injury. He set Rhodey up to ‘steal’ the upgraded Mark II, made sure Pepper would be in charge when he was gone and, yes, flirted more than a little with the redhead from Legal who turned out to be a goddamned SHIELD agent. And then Fury delivered the key to his survival in the nick of time, although whether it was out of concern for his well-being or simply to make sure Iron Man was still a viable concern was to be determined. After all, Tony Stark was Not Recommended. Story of his life. 

Next thing he knew, Tony was being asked to not only learn a whole new scientific discipline overnight, but then to fly the armor to Germany to act as backup for his dad’s man-crush; a thawed out Super Soldier facing off against a thieving madman who turned out to be a demi-god from another world. Said demi-god’s brother was in play as well -- an impressive physical specimen who declaimed like a summer stock actor. Speaking of impressive specimens, it was actually a pleasure to meet Doctor Bruce Banner and have an intelligent conversation. And last but not least, of course, Romanoff was mixed up in all this. 

Correction: neither last nor (maybe) least. It was damned disconcerting to learn that the bow-wielding brainwashed SHIELD agent playing for the other team was a close colleague of Romanoff’s. Thankfully, she was able to give him an attitude adjustment upside the head and bring him back to himself just in time for Act Three. Or so Tony had been told; he’d been a bit busy functioning as a human starting crank for the helicarrier. Fun times. 

The battle of New York itself was almost simple in comparison -- it was obvious who the bad guys were and they could be destroyed without compunction. Best of all, Tony had been given the perfect opportunity to go out with a bang by flying a nuclear missile into a portal that lead who knew where. A shred of self-preservation kept him from blowing the armor open once he’d passed through; the desire to spread his wings wide one last time flaring strongly within him. 

Instead, he slammed back to consciousness back on Earth, the Hulk’s roar still ringing in his ears and a look of glad relief on Rogers’ face that Tony didn’t quite understand. A week or so later, after all the debriefings, the press conferences and massive amounts of paperwork, he got a phone call. 

“Tony, it’s Steve. Steve Rogers. I’m just a few blocks from the Tower and wondered if you’d like to go out for pizza or a beer or something.” 

They met in a hole in the wall that was one of Tony’s favorite haunts; the waitstaff knew who he was, but also let him be. Thankfully, everyone extended the same courtesy to Captain Rogers, but his companion still seemed not quite at ease. The two of them had already made their awkward apologies over the harsh words said on the helicarrier; they’d agreed that the scepter was the source of the animosity and let it go at that. So Tony didn’t quite understand either the purpose of their meeting, or the source of his teammate’s apprehension. 

After placing their order, Tony asked, “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Cap?”

“They didn’t tell me you could fly.” It took a minute to figure out what Rogers meant; he wasn’t referring to the armor. 

“Could. Past tense. The arc reactor's not exactly compatible with wingfolk anatomy.” Tony tapped his chest, then finished the last of his scotch in a single gulp. He didn’t want to talk about it; especially not to a paragon of physical perfection like Captain America. 

“Bucky could fly, too. S’why he volunteered.” 

“So the history books say.” Rogers' expression shuttered, and Tony regretted his flippant tone. He kept forgetting how much this soldier had lost; the war only a few months in his past and his friends all dead or suddenly aged nearly three-quarters of a century. “Sorry, didn’t mean it to come out like that. He was actually someone I looked up to." 

And maybe it was an act of rebellion against his father’s veneration of Captain America, but when Tony’s wings had come in, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes had been an obvious role model. Childhood companion of Steve Rogers, his capture by the enemy had catapulted Captain America from the stage into battle. An elite squad -- the Howling Commandos -- had formed around them to strike terror into the heart of Hydra. Barnes’ skill with the rifle both on the ground and in flight -- a rare talent indeed -- earned him the nickname _Beflügelte Vergeltung _\- ‘Winged Vengeance’.__

____

____

“Barnes’ cause of death is still technically classified,” Tony continued, “but Dad told me what happened. Why didn’t he --”

“It was so stupid,” Rogers interrupted, the pain and loss clear in his voice. “He got tangled in some cargo netting when the side of the train car blew off. He couldn’t get his wings open in time.” 

“I’m sorry.” Tony and Rhodey had some close calls when they were dealing with that Hammer and Vanko mess; he could only imagine how much worse it was to lose a friend you’d known nearly all your life. Tony got the bartender’s attention, then tipped his newly-filled glass in a toast. “To brave men gone too soon.” His companion smiled ruefully in acknowledgement and raised his glass as well. 

“I’d like to see them sometime. Your wings, I mean.” The words seemed to tumble out of Rogers almost on accident, his cheeks going pink even as he held Tony’s eyes. But the request didn’t carry the prurient intrusiveness that Tony had been confronted with so many times before; it was as if Rogers only wanted a reminder of his own, simpler past. 

Following a reckless impulse, Tony downed the rest of this drink and replied, “No time like the present. Let’s head back to the Tower.” 

\----------------------

“Daddy’s home,” Tony called out as he sauntered into his workshop, his casual tone belying a sudden case of nerves. It was true that Rogers’ best buddy had been wingfolk -- but since Afghanistan, Tony had kept his wings very much to himself. Even at his birthday party in Malibu, where he’d otherwise made a jackass of himself, they had remained hidden under the armor. 

The ‘bots trundled out of their charging stations and came over to greet them. Rogers, who had been staring in wonder at his surroundings, seemed taken aback by their appearance. “What are these?” 

“ ‘Who’, not ‘what’, Cap. Meet my robotic progeny, Dum-E and U. Say hello, kids.” Dum-E rolled over to Rogers and raised his camera to peer at their visitor, while U, in an apparent fit of shyness, scooted behind Tony. 

Rogers recovered quickly and grinned back at the ‘bot, saying, “Well, hi there! Did you help Tony build his armor?” 

“Help is a bit generous, but yeah. Dum-E played a supervisory role, I suppose.” Tony resisted the desire to keep stalling and added, “Lemme go change clothes. Don’t want to split the seams of a bespoke suit, after all. ” 

“Hm? Oh, yeah, okay.” It seemed Rogers had forgotten the reason they had come here as well. Tony ducked into the bathroom, quickly doffing the suit and binder to slip on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt slit up the back; Tony wasn’t ready to bare more of himself that he’d already foolishly agreed to. 

In fact, Tony turned his back to Rogers before spreading his wings, one hand on his chest and the other steadying himself on the edge of the workbench. He grit his teeth against the burn and stretch of unused muscles; he knew he should be doing exercises to ward off atrophy, but without being able to actually take flight, it seemed more or less pointless.

“Oh,” Rogers softly exclaimed, once Tony’s wings had reached their full extension. “I thought they’d look like Bucky’s. His plumage was brown, barred with white. Yours --” 

“Is what you’d expect from someone with the nickname of ‘Merchant of Death’, right?” Tony interrupted. He knew the impression they made: glossy and midnight black, with wickedly sharp wingtips. A clever political cartoonist had made the visual analogy, drawing a caricature of him standing with wings spread wide, dressed in a hooded robe and holding a scythe with the Stark Industries logo. Admittedly, that had been long before Afghanistan, but the imagery was too powerful to forget. 

“No, Tony, they’re stunning.” Rogers’ voice held a strange note of awe even as he disagreed with Tony’s comment. "I bet they shimmer with iridescence in the sunlight, don’t they?” He was silent for a moment before adding, “But, um, you’ve got some spots where the feathers look bent out of place.” And now that Rogers had said something, Tony did feel the tickle and itch of misaligned quills behind the now-fading ache of his muscles. 

“Yeah, side effect of keeping them wrapped up tight so often, I guess.” Tony reached around awkwardly to try to smooth the feathers back into place. “I tried teaching the ‘bots to help me preen, but their visual discrimination algorithm is a bit sketchy when it comes to low contrast surfaces.” 

“If you could use a hand, well, I used to help Bucky get his wings back in order after a fight.” Tony turned around to make sure he’d understood Rogers correctly. Sure, Tony had cajoled Rhodey to be an occasional preening partner in college, and Pepper had been more than willing to run her fingers through his feathers when they were together, but he and Rogers barely knew each other. Again, he searched his companion’s expression for any sign of fetishism or objectification, but the offer seemed good-hearted and sincere. 

“Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks.” Tony replied, trying to hide his confusion. 

“Do you need any preening oil? Or is your plumage the powder down type?” Tony blinked in surprise; he hadn’t expected non-wingfolk to be that familiar with the process. 

“There should be some oil around here somewhere. JARVIS, can you help Cap out?” 

“Certainly, sir. Captain Rogers, you will find appropriate supplies in the right hand cabinet above the sink.” 

Rogers startled, then whipped his head around, looking for the source of the voice. “Who was that?” 

“Another of my creations. It’s a natural language artificial intelligence system that runs all the internal systems here at the Tower, as well as helps me fly the armor.” Rogers nodded as if he understood, then went over to the cabinet JARVIS had mentioned, moving cans and bottles out of the way before pulling out a partially-empty container. “Is this it?” 

“Yeah, guess it’s been awhile since I got it out.” 

He motioned for Tony to sit down on a bench, pulling up a chair to sit behind him. Tony flinched slightly at the initial contact, but Rogers’ touch was deft and gentle, carefully lifting and separating Tony’s primary and secondary flight feathers to coat them with a fine layer of oil before smoothing them back into place. Tony found himself lulled into a unfamiliar, quiescent state; he leaned forward to prop his arms against the edge of the workbench, and rested his head on them. A quiet hum of pleasure escaped his lips before he could stop himself.

Steve made no acknowledgement of the embarrassing outburst, simply finishing the task, then running his hands lightly over the contour feathers that covered the top of Tony’s wings, presumably to wipe off the remaining oil on his hands. “Does that feel better?” 

“‘Better’ is an understatement, Cap. Thank you.” Tony hadn’t felt so relaxed in years; he struggled to not fall asleep right there and then. 

He could hear the smile in Steve’s voice as he replied, “You’re quite welcome, Tony.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the fall of SHIELD, Steve reaches out to Tony to help find the Winter Soldier.

“Tony? It’s Steve. I need your help.” His voice was tight; not exactly desperate, but somewhere in the neighborhood. Tony couldn’t decide whether he was more relieved to hear from his teammate or concerned about the content of the call. 

Covering both bases, he replied, “Good to hear from you, Cap. But if this has to do with fallout from that to-do down in DC that left the Triskelion in tatters and three helicarriers soaking in the Potomac? I gotta tell you, I’m retired from superheroing.” That’s what Tony liked to tell himself after Killian and Extremis and all that -- but the fab machines in the basement of the Tower told a different story. 

“So I’ve heard,” came Steve’s curt reply. “But it’s not the armor I’m interested in. I need the genius that designed it, and maybe some help from with your artificial intelligence, JARVIS, was it?” 

“He’s kind of busy at the moment, thanks to our mutual redheaded acquaintance and her decision to spill all of SHIELD’s secrets - including the locations and identities of dozens of agents on clandestine missions.” Now it was Tony’s turn to be brusque. While it had been a shock to learn that the agency his father had helped found had been sheltering its worst enemy for decades, Tony had never been a fan of the ‘burn a village to save it’ strategy. He’d therefore instructed his AI to comb through the massive data dump and do whatever it took to get these people to safety, innocent bystanders or otherwise. 

“Yeah. That ... wasn’t supposed to happen.” Tony’s curiosity was piqued by Steve’s resigned reply. It still wasn’t clear what Captain America’s involvement had been in the takedown of SHIELD; the amateur videos of a shootout on a downtown overpass and a battle on the helicarriers only muddying the waters. “Anyways, can I come up to the Tower and get your thoughts on something?” 

“Sure. You know you’re always welcome, Cap. Mi casa es su casa.” While Steve had moved to Washington DC not long after the Battle of New York, their paths had still crossed on a semi-regular basis. SI still had plenty of military support contracts that called Tony to the nation’s capital and whatever SHIELD had Captain America doing brought him back to New York and out to Southern California on occasion as well. So despite their somewhat rough start, they had gone from teammates to friends.

But a small, traitorous part of Tony wanted that friendship to be something more. That impromptu preening session had sparked something that Tony had scarcely felt since his teenage crush on Bucky Barnes. He generally had little desire to act on his occasional attraction towards men (drunkenly hitting on Rhodey during his college years notwithstanding) but Steve Rogers stirred up not only his libido, but an emotional reaction as well. 

That said, Tony Stark was well used to not getting what he wanted, so he set those thoughts aside as he sent his driver to the train station to pick Steve up. Tony met them in the Tower’s garage, fending off Happy’s questioning look as he opened the door for his passenger.

“Thank you, Mister Hogan,” Steve said as he exited the towncar. 

“My pleasure, Captain. Nice to talk to someone who actually knows something about baseball.” 

Tony sniffed. “I have better things to do than watch multi-millionaires gallivanting around a field of fake grass.” 

“I’d think the physics of the game would catch your fancy, Tony.” Steve was clearly trying to pretend that the last two weeks hadn’t happened, that everything was back to normal. Except it wasn’t; Steve moved stiffly and his brow was as furrowed as if he were doing a complex math problem in his head while juggling chainsaws that were on fire. 

As they stepped into the elevator to his workshop, Tony said, “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to Fury’s funeral. I was halfway around the world and there wasn’t time to make arrangements for someone else to do the demonstrations.” Tony had been shocked and saddened to hear the news. “He wasn’t an easy man to know, but he did what needed to be done.” 

Instead of agreeing, or otherwise recognizing Tony’s apology, Steve suddenly looked almost embarrassed. “Um... about that. Nick’s... not really dead.” 

He went on to provide a recap of everything that had really happened in the nation’s capital, versus the patchy, threadbare cover story that the mass media had obviously been told to provide. As he listened, Tony’s reaction fluctuated between disbelief and concern with a healthy dash of feeling slighted thrown into the mix. Once Steve wrapped up his tale, Tony asked, “Why didn’t you call me? I could have --” 

“I know. I’m sorry, Tony.” Steve interrupted. “But it all happened so fast, and Nick told me not to trust anyone.” 

“Except for this dude you met a couple of days previous -- what was his name again?” 

Steve had the grace to look sheepish. “Sam. Sam Wilson.” 

“JARVIS, why do I know that name?” 

“US Air Force Staff Sergeant Samuel Thomas Wilson served two tours in the 58th Rescue Squadron and was selected for the EXO-7 program,” was the AI’s crisp reply. 

“So he was your air support.” Prickles of jealousy took Tony by surprise, sparked equally by Steve choosing Wilson over him and of Wilson himself. Tony had provided input on the development of the winged jetpack and had considered volunteering to test them; but ultimately decided against it. It would be too close to (and yet so far away from) what he’d once had. 

“Yeah. You’d like him, Tony. He’s a good guy.” Steve’s expression had smoothed slightly, with a hint of a real smile, the first Tony had seen since Steve arrived. 

“You said you needed my help?” Still feeling a little prickly, Tony was ready to move the conversation on. 

Steve nodded, seemingly equally relieved at the change in topic. “Remember how you and Bruce were able to track down the Tesseract? Could you do something like that to find someone?” 

“Not likely. We were tracking it based on its gamma radiation profile. People don’t emit radiation like that. Not even Doctor Banner.”

“What if there were something they were wearing that could be traced -- like an artificial arm?” 

“You want to find the Winter Soldier.” Steve flinched, then nodded again, apparently not surprised that Tony knew about the shadowy figure that had killed (okay - nearly killed) Fury and then been sent after Captain America. “Would you bring him in, or is this a bit of personal revenge?” The latter seemed out of character for Steve, but Tony had to ask. 

“It’s... complicated,” Steve replied carefully. “I think he’s the one who pulled me out of the water, after I fell from the helicarrier.” 

“After he shot you and beat the shit out of you, he saved your life?” 

“Like I said, it’s complicated. Anyways, I’ve got some information on the Soldier. I was hoping you’d be able to do something with it to help me find him.” Steve pulled a thick file folder out of his messenger bag -- it was old, battered and labeled in Cyrillic. “Can you read Russian?” 

“A little, but JARVIS can scan and translate for us.” Tony took the folder -- for some reason, Steve didn’t trigger his little quirk -- and started laying the papers out on the nearest horizontal surface. They were a mix of handwritten notes and typed documents, with diagrams and equations that Tony itched to dig into as he skimmed over each item. “How many of these poor bastards did they have, anyways?” he murmured, half to himself. 

“What do you mean?” Steve’s voice went sharp. 

“I’m seeing dates spanning the last half-century on these documents, all referring to the Soldier. That has to be a codename for their test subjects over the years. Unless you were fighting a senior citizen.” 

Tony had meant his last comment to be a joke, but the look on Steve’s face was anything but amused. “There’s only been one.” Steve’s reply was grave as he handed over another item. It was a photo of a man’s face taken through some sort observation window. Tony was reminded at first of the Shroud of Turin and then ... 

“You’re fucking kidding me,” he breathed. If you looked past the long hair and stubble, the man was the spitting image of Barnes. 

Steve shook his head. “It’s him. I don’t know how, but it is.” He swallowed hard and continued. “Bucky didn’t recognize me, didn’t even know his own name. They did something to him, Tony.” Steve’s voice shook with emotion. 

Tony’s first impulse was to assume it was a coincidence, or some sort of cruel joke. That Hydra had intentionally found (or created) an agent who resembled Captain America’s right-hand man and childhood friend. But Steve was right, everything they were seeing pointed to a single individual who had been on the job since the mid 1940’s. Bits and pieces Tony recalled from wartime stories he’d heard as a child started to slot into place. 

“Aunt Peggy said that when you went after Barnes, you found him in some sort of lab. Maybe Zola had already done something to him that helped him survive the fall.” Tony looked closely at the photo and noted what looked like frost on the bottom of the window. “JARVIS, are there any references to cryostasis, or something similar in these documents?” 

“Yes, sir. Multiple references.” 

At Steve’s puzzled look, Tony explained, “Cold storage. Kind of like what happened to you, except on purpose. You said Barnes was as strong, as fast as you are; so he’s probably been dosed with some version of the super-soldier serum. Maybe they’ve been keeping him on ice between missions. That would explain why he hasn’t aged.” 

“But why didn’t he know me?” 

Tony shrugged, “Hard to say at the moment. Might be a side-effect of the cryo, but it might have been intentional. JARVIS, search out and compile any material from the data dump that references this Winter Soldier project. Steve, do you have anything else?” 

He shook his head. “Got what you see here courtesy of Natasha. But now you understand why I have to find him.” 

“Of course.” It didn’t take much to put himself in Steve’s shoes; Tony would move heaven and earth if it were Rhodey. “Let me see what we can do.” Tony stood with a grunt, his back popping enough to easily be heard by super-soldier ears. He’d already put in a full day of work, and it looked like he’d been seeing the sunrise from the wrong side once again. 

“When did you last stretch your wings? Give them a chance to breathe?” It was a familiar question, one that Steve asked every time they talked. Tony had found it mildly annoying at first, but came to accept it as a show of concern for a friend. But considering their current situation, he suspected a deeper, if not completely conscious intent. 

“It’s been awhile, maybe since the last time you called.” 

A frown briefly crossed Steve’s face. “That’s not healthy, Tony. Let me... I mean, if you want, I could....” he made a vague gesture towards Tony, hands spread out. “I brought some oil, in case you’d run out.” 

Tony’s traitorous heart sped up at the thought that the offer wasn’t an impulse, that Steve had thought and planned ahead. “Yeah... that ... that would be appreciated. Let me go get changed.” 

In the privacy of the bathroom, Tony splashed water on his face as he tried to convince himself it didn’t mean anything, not really. “How’s the analysis of the intel Steve brought going, J?” he asked to distract himself. The screen embedded into the mirror lit up and data started scrolling across it while JARVIS provided a verbal summary. 

Tony stripped to the waist, then frowned in frustration as he looked in the small closet. The half-dozen tees on the shelf were old and grease-spotted, sure, but they were also some of his favorites, and he hesitated to slice them up. Before he could second-guess himself, he simply slung a towel around his neck and walked back out in the workshop. 

“You were right, Cap. Turns out the power source for Barnes’ arm has a similar radiation signature to the Tesseract. JARVIS is already linking up to the detection equipment.” 

Steve had turned at the sound of Tony’s voice, but whatever he was going to say seemed to stick in his throat, his eyes instead going wide as he saw Tony, who in turned pulled a corner of the towel over his chest. “Sorry, didn’t mean to shock you. I know it’s not a pretty sight.” 

Steve actually blushed as he stepped toward Tony. “No, it’s not like that at all. I just... didn’t know what it really looked like. It’s remarkable.” At Tony’s raised eyebrow, he continued, “I’m serious, Tony.” He snatched back his hand, which had apparently risen toward Tony of its own accord, rubbing the back of his neck with it instead. “Um, I pulled a couple of chairs together.” 

“Thanks.” Tony sat down backwards in one chair, leaning forward slightly to rest his arms on the back of it as he unfurled his wings. He then heard Steve pull the other chair closer, and the soft snap of the lid of the preening oil bottle. Steve’s touch was tentative at first, then he fell into a rhythm, spreading the quills apart to get the oil all the way down to the main shaft, then smoothing them back into place. 

Tony in turn relaxed into the touch, the ever-present tension in his shoulders falling away. He’d almost nodded off when Steve’s breath hitched a little. In a voice so quiet Tony could barely hear it over the background noise, Steve said, “I can’t lose him again, Tony.” 

“I know, Steve. We’ll find him. It’s going to be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picking this WIP back up, at least for awhile. Thanks to Kitteh over on the WinterIron Discord for a cheer-read through this chapter! 
> 
> Kudos and comments help feed the Muse.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After locating the Soldier in Brooklyn, Steve goes in after him, with Tony on the comms. Despite a terrible revelation, Steve brings his Bucky back to the tower to help free him from Hydra's clutches.

“You’re sure he’s here, Tony? The building looks abandoned, maybe even condemned.” Steve’s voice came across the comms crystal clear. He’d insisted on going alone, unarmed and wearing old-fashioned civvies, but Tony had his latest suit on standby, ready to take the short jaunt across the East river. At least Barnes had made it easy on them, going to ground in what Steve claimed was their old neighborhood. 

“Unless he figured out a way to make the arm detachable, and is running errands without it.” Tony regretted the snarky remark the moment it came out. After all, they’d both seen the diagram of how the prosthetic was attached, with its support structure screwed right into the bones. “Sorry. I’m a bit on edge.” 

“You and me both, champ.”

Tony carefully studied the wireframe that JARVIS had assembled from discreet drone footage; a building this old didn’t even have its blueprints down at the Planning Department, much less in their digital file system. “Looks like he’s in the upper corner apartment.” 

“Figures. Easiest to defend and escape from.” 

“The building is six stories high, Cap. And you said you never saw him take flight during any of your fights, even when it would have been the smart thing to do.” JARVIS was having difficulty finding information in the data dump that provided much detail on the Winter Soldier himself; evidently those files had all been kept offline. That meant they had no idea what the status of Barnes’ wings was -- if he was simply keeping them under wraps to avoid an easy identifier, or if there were a more sinister reason. 

“The last time I tried to chase him over rooftops, he cleared a twenty-five-foot gap between buildings running at speed. I don’t think it’d be a problem.” Steve responded dryly. 

“So you’re saying we should sign him up for track and field events.” Tony’s attempt at levity was simply to mask his mixed feelings about this operation. While he could empathize completely with Steve wanting to bring Barnes in and get him somewhere safe, Tony couldn’t help but wonder if this were the right course of action. What if Barnes were still dangerous -- still intent on completing his mission? And even if that weren’t the case, how much of who Steve remembered remained in the man they were now pursuing? 

“Yeah,” Steve responded with a brief huff of laughter. “I’m going in now. I’ll leave my end of the line open, but mute yours. If his ears are as good as mine, he’ll hear your chatter from the ground floor.” There was a hint of humor in Steve’s voice as well, but Tony took the hint and clicked his mic off. He watched as Steve’s dot scaled the stairs and approached the apartment, fervently wishing he’d been able to talk his teammate into wearing a camera as well as a commlink. 

Tony couldn’t believe it when Steve knocked -- honest-to-god knocked -- on the apartment door, the old ‘shave and a haircut’ cadence coming across the line loud and clear. He listened for the tinkling glass of a broken window, waited for Barnes’ dot to make an escape. But nothing happened. Steve repeated the knock; after a moment, there was a double rap in response and the creaking of a door being opened. There was no sound of a gun being cocked, or a struggle -- which Tony took as a good sign.

After a heavy moment of silence, Steve asked, “Do you know me?” 

“You’re Steve. I read about you in a museum.” Barnes’ voice was rough, as if he hadn’t been using it much. 

The throat mic picked up Steve swallowing thickly, but his voice was steady otherwise. “That’s not all, is it, Buck?” 

There was a huff, as if of frustration, before Barnes answered. “You were my mission. I was supposed to --” 

“But you didn’t,” Steve cut in. “I’m not your mission. I’m your friend. We’ve known each other since we were kids, Buck. Tell me you remember who you are, what we were to each other.” The intensity in that last phrase piqued Tony’s curiosity.

“I don’t!” It wasn’t quite a shout, but there was anguish and frustration in the response, and Tony fully expected to see Barnes’ dot make a break for it. “I don’t know what I remember,” he continued, voice shaking even as he stood his ground. “It’s all pieces ‘n’ parts up here -- like a broken mirror or pages torn outta a book. Can’t tell what’s real and what ain’t.” Barnes’ Brooklyn accent was breaking through, which Tony found both charming and a positive indicator. “I don’t know what to do. I need help... Stevie.” He spoke the last word with hopeful caution, as if he wasn’t sure it was right, but he wanted it to be. 

“Yeah, Buck. You used’t call me that, sometimes.” Steve’s voice had gone rough as well, mirroring his companion’s native intonations “And I ... we can help. I got a friend, name of Tony. He’s Howard’s son, Howard Stark. D’you remember ‘im? Tony, well, he’s even smarter than his dad, and he can figure out a way to make you better.” 

“Howard Stark... I think .... oh god, I think he was another mission. I think I killed him.” Tony’s mouth went dry as he prayed that he’d somehow misheard Barnes. It had been an accident, that’s what the investigators said. It was dark, and the winding road was wet from the rain, and Howard, as usual, had been drinking. It was stupid and senseless, yes, but it had been an accident. 

“What do you mean, Buck?” Steve asked carefully. 

“The mission was to make it look like an accident.” Barnes’ accent was gone, the words coming out in a flat monotone. “I was to confirm the target was eliminated and retrieve the objective from the trunk. There was ... collateral damage.” 

Tony ripped the earpiece away and threw it to the desk. “That was my mother, you son of a bitch!” His voice cracked, and a few painful sobs escaped his lips. After taking a shuddering breath, Tony asked “JARVIS, could it be true?” 

After a moment, the AI answered. “I have located a list of activation dates for the Soldier, Sir. One entry covers December 10th through the 24th, 1991. I am sorry.” JARVIS then added, “Captain Rogers is paging you.” 

Tony picked up the earpiece; he could hear Steve calling out his name. “Tony? What’s going on? Are you okay?” 

Turning his mic back on as he replaced the earpiece, Tony deflected the question with one of his own. “What’s the next step, Cap?”

“Is bringing Bucky back to the Tower still an option?” 

Tony let the logical, emotionless part of him reply. “Makes the most sense, especially if he’s got a tracker on, or in, him.” It had been their original plan, after all, and Tony had outfitted a secure room with a Faraday cage, just in case.

“I ... might?” Tony couldn’t tell if Barnes had overheard his reply, or if Steve had wordlessly asked, but either way his reply was meek, almost apologetic. He seemed ready to follow whatever direction he was given. 

“Should I send a car over?” Tony stayed focused on the plan; he could get through this. 

“I’d rather us take my bike back,” Steve replied, “That is, if you don’t mind, Bucky. Not sure this is the best neighborhood.” 

To Tony’s surprise, Barnes let out a short bark of laughter. “It never was, punk.” 

“Okay. Mission accomplished. Good job. I gotta take care of some things, Cap. Let JARVIS know if you need anything. Over and out.” Tony cut the line but continued to watch the display, the two dots moving as one down the stairs and out of the building. 

 

Several hours later, Tony was elbow deep in the torso of a suit he wasn’t supposed to be working on when JARVIS alerted him to a visitor. “Captain Rogers is requesting entrance to the workshop.” 

“Let him in.” Tony knew that Steve’s streak of stubbornness would keep him standing patiently in front of the door for an awkwardly long period of time, and he supposed things were awkward enough at the moment as is. “Got our guest settled in, Cap?” 

“Tony, I swear, I had no idea...” Steve was clearly distressed, but Tony wasn’t sure he was in a forgiving mood. 

“That you were asking me to harbor the man who murdered my parents?” Steve winced; direct hit. “Yeah - hell of a coincidence.” 

“It wasn’t his choice,” Steve responded defensively. “They brainwashed him. Bucky told me there was a machine that wiped his memories by sending electricity through his head.” Tony suppressed his own wince at that, remembering all too well the jolts that had run through his own body when his captors hadn’t been all that careful about keeping dangling wires out of the cold, filthy barrel of water they repeatedly plunged him into. 

“Okay-- let’s table that discussion for now.” The last thing Tony needed right now was to get triggered into a panic attack. But you didn’t answer my first question.” 

“Bucky’s gotten cleaned up and had something to eat. I’m hoping he’s sleeping now; he looked exhausted.” 

“You’re not looking so hot, yourself.” The serum usually kept Steve looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but it had been a long day, and a longer couple of weeks. 

Steve shrugged. “Got a lot on my mind.” 

“Such as...?” 

“Well, the trackers, for one thing. JARVIS’ scan found two of them.” His AI had forwarded the scans to Tony the moment they were complete. One of the devices was embedded deeply in in the muscle of Barnes’ upper thigh, the other buried in the the prosthetic itself. 

“That and what they did to his wings,” Steve continued. “He wouldn’t even let me see them, Tony. Said they were ugly and broken. That Hydra should have just cut them the rest of the way off.” Tony had never heard Steve sound so bitter and pained; he himself had clenched his teeth against his rising gorge when he realized what the scan of Barnes’ torso was showing him. 

“It’s... pretty awful, all the way ‘round,” Tony agreed. Regardless of what Barnes had done, pinioning was the worst sort of torture for wingfolk; removing the last joint of the wings to ground them forever. 

“Took a hell of a lot of convincing to keep Bucky from going after the trackers himself. Told him I’d find someone who knew what they were doing to get ‘em out.” 

“Who would that be?” 

“Sam had some medic training, and he already knows about Bucky. I called him and he’ll be here first thing tomorrow morning, if that’s okay.” Steve arched a hopeful eyebrow. 

“Sure, that makes sense. JARVIS, make sure we have the necessary materials on hand for the extraction.” Tony had wanted to meet Wilson since Steve first mentioned him; while this might not be an ideal situation, perhaps he could make the best of it. 

“I already placed the order, Sir.” 

“Thanks, J. What about the one in the prosthetic, Steve? Is your flyboy pal a tech whiz as well?” 

“Actually,” Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “I was hoping you’d take care of it. After all, you’re the smartest man I know when it comes to gadgets and circuits, probably the smartest man in the world.” 

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Cap.” Tony’s response was reflexive. At first, he hadn’t even wanted to have Barnes around, much less to interact with him. But after seeing what Hydra had done, well, even Tony’s heart wasn’t that hard. Besides, the sooner the trackers were gone, the sooner Barnes could be on his way, wherever that was. 

“I know I’m asking a lot, Tony.” Steve looked down at his clasped hands. “More than I deserve. But I don’t know who else I can trust.” 

Tony couldn’t resist that kind of appeal, especially not from someone for whom he was already maybe sort of falling for.

“Let me think about it,” he replied tersely. “Since we’re already waiting for Wilson and all.” 

“Thank you, Tony. I can’t tell you how much this all means to me.” The small, hopeful smile on Steve’s face lifted Tony’s heart much more than it should have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I keep putting Tony through that awful discovery time and again, but with better long-term results than the MCU gave us. 
> 
> Feel free to scream at me in the comments....


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam Wilson and Tony are pressed into service to help remove tracking devices from the former Winter Soldier. Both procedures -- performed under the close supervision of Steve -- go surprisingly well, and they touch base with one another afterwards.

Tony swore under his breath. He’d wrung every last morsel of data out of the documentation he had on Barnes’ arm, and it still wasn’t enough. The prosthetic was an amazing piece of tech -- astoundingly complex and beautiful in its own sinister way -- but he was missing key pieces of information about how it functioned. It made Tony worry that the extraction of the tracker might not go so well. 

It was already going to be a tense situation. While Tony could objectively accept that perhaps Barnes hadn’t truly been himself when he’d been sent on his mission to assassinate Howard Stark, the part of him that still missed his mother was not nearly so forbearing. Not that Tony would botch the job intentionally -- he was too prideful for that. But he wasn’t about to make small talk with the guy, either. 

“Sir, Captain Rogers asked me to tell you that Staff Sergeant Wilson is finishing the last few sutures. The procedure appears to be a success.” Wilson was clearly a more forgiving soul than Tony; according to Steve, the last time he and Barnes met, it ended with Wilson being punted off a helicarrier after having one of his wings ripped off. And here he was, just a couple weeks later, performing minor surgery on Barnes’ behalf. 

“Thanks, J. You can tell Steve I’m as ready as I’m going to be.” Tony hadn’t yet met Barnes in person, but had sneaked a few peeks at the surveillance footage of the garage from when he and Steve had returned to the tower the day before. Barnes had raised his head to check the perimeter as soon as they pulled into the underground space, locating each camera with a brief, suspicious glance. 

Tony caught a flash of piercing blue-grey eyes, a chiseled jaw under a week’s worth of beard and was suddenly thrown back to his teenage years. It had been a safe crush, even more so than a celebrity; after all, the man wasn’t even alive. But now he was, and walking right into Tony’s home, at that. His face was the last thing your mother saw, Tony thought fiercely to himself, pushing back the feelings that had surged back up after more than two decades. 

After dismounting the bike, Barnes had dropped his head and hunched his shoulders, obviously not happy to be there. Well, that made two of them, then. Tony would do the right thing, help his friend Steve (only a friend, only ever a friend - how was this even his life) and then wash his hands of the matter. 

Tony expected Barnes would need a couple of hours to recuperate after the work Wilson had done, so he was taken aback when JARVIS stated that Captain Rogers and the Sergeant were on their way to the workshop. Tony took a deep breath and composed himself as the door slid open. 

Barnes was wearing only a snug t-shirt and shorts with a thick gauze dressing on his right thigh. Tony took in his new guest’s broad shoulders and long legs in a single glance, tearing his eyes away from that appealing physique only to notice how Steve was practically hovering over his companion. He placed his hand on his friend's shoulder as if to hold him back, saying "We don’t have to do this right now, Buck. You should rest, have something to eat.” 

Barnes pulled away roughly from the touch and responded in a surly tone, “Want it outta me as soon as goddamned possible.” Steve shot his friend a concerned, hurt look, but then he put on a brave face as he made the introductions. 

“Buck, this is Tony. He’s the one I told you about -- he helped me find you. This building is his, too, and he’s gonna help us out even more by removing the tracker from your prosthetic.” Turning to Tony, Steve continued, “Tony, I guess you know Bucky already.” 

Tony nodded curtly. “I’ve got everything set up over here.” He led them over to the work area and Barnes sat down without a word, placing his arm on the bench, palm side up. Dum-E trundled over, curious as always. “Oh no,” Tony said, making a dismissive gesture with both hands. “Your questionable supervisory skills are not required today. Shoo.” 

Tony turned back to his guests to see a mix of confusion and something close to wonder on Barnes’ face. “Was that a robot? A robot you can talk to? And it listens?” 

“Depends on your definition of ‘listens’,” Tony replied dryly. “Dum-E -- which originally stood for Digital Mechanical Entity, but ended up being entirely too apt of a name -- is designed to respond to verbal commands. How he interprets them and chooses to respond is always an adventure.” 

Barnes snorted, and the corner of his mouth quirked up just the slightest bit. “What did I tell you, Buck?” Steve said with a relieved grin. “Tony builds amazing things - I bet he’s got that prosthetic all figured out already.” 

“Not exactly. For example, while I was able to determine there’s a handy-dandy access port that will make it fairly easy to dig out the tracker,” Tony tapped lightly with a pen just below the elbow of Barnes’ prosthetic, “what I can’t tell is whether it’s booby trapped. Is there a secret code or something I need to enter somehow first? A key phrase?” 

Barnes shook his head, face suddenly gone expressionless. “The Soldier must not allow unauthorized access. In addition, the prosthetic becomes non-functional if it is no longer attached to living tissue.” 

“First off, referring to yourself in third person is kinda creepy, Sarge," Tony commented. "Secondly, what exactly do you mean by 'no longer attached to living tissue’? Like if it's removed?” 

"Yes, or if the Soldier is eliminated, either by an opponent or due self-termination if capture is unavoidable." "Wait a minute, Buck" Steve said, clearly distressed, "You were given orders to kill yourself instead of getting captured? What did they expect, that you'd slit your own goddamned throat?" Barnes shook his head before sticking a finger in his mouth. He dug around for a moment and then held out a tiny ampoule on the tip of a finger. “Poison pill.” Steve turned pale before snatching it away from his friend and promptly throwing it into the garbage. 

“So, you’re saying that they didn’t bother to sabotage the prosthetic because you'd fight to the death to protect it? And once you were dead, it would be useless?” The questions came out more bluntly than Tony had intended, but Barnes didn’t seem fazed. 

“Guess so.” He shrugged; and even in that simple movement, Tony couldn’t help but be fascinated by the way the prosthetic was completely in sync with Barnes’ other arm; Tony would practically give up one of his own to see the specs on its haptic and proprioception systems. Speaking of which...

“Another thing. The prosthetic is obviously connected directly with your nervous system, so what kind of feedback does it provide?” Barnes gave him a puzzled, wary look, so Tony went on. “In other words, is it going to hurt if I go digging around? I already know that there's going to be live current to deal with.” 

Barnes lifted his chin. “I can keep still for as long as it takes you to get the damn thing out.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” 

“Doesn’t matter.” Barnes clenched his jaw, thumping his fist down on the workbench for emphasis. “Just... do what ya gotta do, Mister Stark.”

“Mister Stark was my--” Tony bit his tongue before the word ‘father’ slipped out. His usual response to being formally addressed would be in terribly poor taste, considering. “Just... call me Tony,” he muttered as he bent to his work. 

Once he got the access port open, Tony stared at the inside workings of the arm. “JARVIS, bring up the display.” A holographic image of the prosthetic hovered above the table and Tony reached up to rotate it, then pulled the diagram apart so he could locate the tracker, which glowed a dull red. 

“What the hell is that?” Barnes breathed, sounding more astonished than concerned. 

“A real-time three-dimensional image of your prosthetic, based on the scans we took earlier as well as motion capture cameras. Figured it was the easiest way to determine my plan of attack.” Barnes shifted the arm slightly, watching in fascination as the image moved right along with it.

“Huh. Pretty snappy.” 

“Thanks. Ready for me to dig in?” Barnes nodded, and Tony picked up a couple of insulated probes. Striking a balance between speed and caution, he began teasing the bundles of wires and cables apart, wary of the occasional electrical arc. True to his word, Barnes held the arm remarkably still, but his furled wings twitched noticeably and he clenched his other fist so tightly his knuckles turned white. 

Steve, who had been trying to stay out of the way, pulled over a chair and sat down in front of the two of them. “Hey, Buck, remember that time when we went to Coney Island for my birthday? I’d just made a chunk of cash from doing some racy pinups for a couple of the guys you worked with . . .” He reached out to take his friend’s hand in both his own as he continued the story. The smile on Steve’s face was perhaps a little forced, but Barnes was ostensibly paying more attention to him than to what Tony was doing, which took some of the pressure off. 

His quarry finally in sight, Tony grabbed a pair of wooden tongs -- designed to assist with removing toast from a recalcitrant appliance -- and deftly slid them into place around the tracker. It was about the size and shape of a peach pit, but with none of the ridges that would provide traction. Mumbling various friction formulas under his breath as if they were prayers, Tony pinched the tongs together and pulled. One end came up easily, the other was still attached to a wire, presumably its source of power. 

“Shit,” Tony cursed. “Hey, Barnes, you good if I snip this wire to free up the tracker?” 

Biting his lip, Barnes made a curt nod. Tony picked up his multitool and, still holding the tongs, made a quick clip. The wire sparked briefly, and there was a smell of ozone; they held their breath for a moment to see what else would happen, but nothing did.

“It’s always the red wire.” Tony muttered to himself as he dropped the tracker into the basin next to its larger sibling. He was just as glad he wasn’t there for that extraction - the thing was roughly the size of a plum and must’ve hurt like hell coming out. 

Barnes drew a long, shaky breath as he reached over to close the access port on the prosthetic. He then stood up and moved the arm through a series of positions, as if to confirm it still functioned. “Thanks,” he mumbled, and started heading toward the door.

Steve quickly stood as well, but before following Barnes, he pulled Tony into a quick embrace. “Thank you, Tony. I can’t tell you what this means to me, knowing that we’ve broken that hold Hydra had on Bucky.” 

Steve’s large, warm hand stroked right over Tony’s furled wings, sending a pleasurable shiver down his spine. “Glad I could help.” Tony's strangled reply accompanied an awkward patting of Steve’s shoulders. After a moment, Tony stepped back and gently pushed Steve away. “Better go catch up to your pal, Cap.” The moment the door closed behind the two soldiers, he sagged against the workbench. Leave it to his traitorous heart to take a few kind gestures and spin it into a foolish infatuation. 

Firmly setting those thoughts aside, Tony turned back to his workbench. “All righty, let’s see just what kind of tech those Hydra bastards put into these trackers. JARVIS, queue up my ‘engineer the shit out of this’ playlist and crank it up.” 

He’d barely gotten started when JARVIS turned the music down and spoke up: “Sir, Staff Sergeant Wilson would like to speak with you. May I send him in?” 

“Sure.” He hadn’t had much of a chance to speak with Steve’s new bestie when he’d arrived at the Tower earlier in the day, but on first impression, he reminded Tony a lot of Rhodey. Not only because of their similar background but also because the way he greeted Steve with a bit of gentle ribbing felt very familiar. Wilson also hadn’t seemed at all intimidated or starstruck upon meeting Tony, which was refreshing. Then again if he took being friends with a super-soldier from the 1940’s in stride, a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist who flew around in a suit of high-tech armor wasn’t going to impress him that much. 

Stepping into the workshop, Wilson’s eyes made a quick sweep of his surroundings, catching for a moment on the cars lined up along the far end. “Thought I’d see how your half of the debugging went.” 

“I didn’t get stabbed, shot, or punched, so I’d have to say it went well,” Tony responded. “Unfortunately, I couldn’t figure out how to disable the nerve receptors in the prosthetic. Barnes was probably hurting pretty bad by the time I was done.” 

Wilson made a face. “Yeah, he didn’t even wanna do a local anesthetic; Steve had to practically sit on his head to get him to agree. Not that I blame the guy for not being into needles -- there’s enough tracks on his other arm to make him look like some sort of junkie.” He then gave Tony a searching look. “How’re you doing?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Steve told me, you know, about your parents. I’m sorry, man . . . that must’ve been a real gutpunch. I was a little surprised when Steve said you let him bring Barnes back here, even more so when I found out you were helping with the trackers. Figured you’d want to keep your distance.” Wilson was watching Tony’s face closely, obviously putting that experience as a counselor to work. “You know, some folks might’ve used the opportunity to get up close for a bit of revenge.” 

“I can’t say the thought didn’t cross my mind.” Tony found himself answering more honestly than he’d intended. “But I’m no sadist. Hurting Barnes on purpose wouldn’t change a damn thing, and besides, it’d piss Cap off.” 

“Sure would,” Wilson huffed out a laugh. “Hey, Is it just me, or is there something between those two? More than just being childhood pals and brothers in arms, I mean?” 

Tony recalled Steve’s plea upon seeing his childhood friend once more: ‘tell me you remember what we were to each other’. He also thought about how solicitous he was regarding Barnes’ wellbeing. But the two of them had grown up in a different time; perhaps that was just the way they expressed their friendship. After all, Tony himself had personal experience with how chummy Rogers could be, and surely that didn’t mean anything. 

Tony gave Wilson a cool glance. “None of our business either way, don’t you think?” 

“Fair enough.” 

“If I may interrupt, gentlemen,” JARVIS said, “Captain Rogers has requested that you join him in his suite at your earliest opportunity.” 

“Is there trouble?” Wilson tensed, as if preparing for combat. 

“No, not at present.” The veiled intent hinted at in JARVIS’ reply got them both heading for the elevator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to those of you keeping up and continuing to support this fic. Not only has my time and energy been limited due to new work commitments, but I've been struggling with getting this fic to come together the way I'd originally planned. That said, I have two great betas - Gavilan & The Kitteh, who are continuing to nudge me along and provide support; comments either here or over on my [ Tumblr ](http://polizwrites.tumblr.com) help as well.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barnes tells Steve, Sam and Tony about the vault in Washington DC; they make a clandestine visit to take care of it. Barnes' late night visit to Tony's workshop sparks what could become a friendship; and Tony confirms what he'd suspected about the two super-soldiers all along.

“Hey. Thanks for coming over.” Steve’s voice had gone tight again, reminding Tony of that fateful phone call that had kicked off this entire mess. They followed Steve into the living area of the suite to see Barnes sitting on the couch, hunched over with his hands tightly clasped between his knees. “We... um... Bucky, can you tell Tony and Sam what you told me?” 

Barnes looked up, his body language clearly showing how much he really didn’t want to tell them anything; but he would anyways, because Steve had asked. In a raspy voice, he said, “There’s a building, near the National Mall. Used t’be a bank, but I dunno what they use it for now. They always took me in through the back.” The Brooklyn accent suddenly fell away and he sat up straight. “In the basement, in the vault, is the equipment used to maintain the Soldier. Additional documentation on the asset and the prosthetic may be stored there as well.”

Tony’s stomach roiled at the thought of what ‘equipment’ and ‘maintain’ actually meant, given Steve’s earlier comment and his own interaction with Barnes. Wilson drew a sharp breath even as his expression remained neutral. “Lemme guess, Steve,” he drawled a moment later. “You’re heading back to DC. Mind if I catch a ride home with you?” 

Tony admired the clever way Wilson had once again allied himself with Captain America. “I’ll file a flight plan for one of SI’s jets,” he added. “We can leave first thing in the morning. We’ll need our beauty rest.” 

“Tony, Sam, this isn’t your fight, you don’t have to--” Steve protested. 

“That’s true,” Tony interrupted. “But you don’t have to do this alone, either.” 

That must’ve been the right thing to say, as Steve sighed, shoulders relaxing. “I know I keep saying it, Tony, but thank you. Thank you both.” 

“I... I don’t want to go back.” Barnes’ quiet comment belied the dread and dismay on his face. 

“Oh, Buck,” Steve hunkered down in front of his friend, clasping his hands. “I would never ask you to do that. You’ll be safe here, and I’ll -- we’ll be back real soon, okay?” 

“I’ll make sure JARVIS buttons things up tight when we leave,” Tony added, even as he made a mental note to tell his AI to leave Barnes an escape route, just in case he decided to take advantage of Steve’s absence to make himself scarce. It would make things a hell of a lot easier if he did. 

“Sounds like we have a plan, gentlemen.” Sam said, clapping his hands together. “Now, how about we get something to eat?” 

 

Their excursion to the nation’s capital had gone surprisingly well, all things considered. Tony had a new iteration of his suitcase armor ready to go, and Steve brought his shield in an artist’s portfolio. After a quick B&E through the back door that Barnes had mentioned, they discovered that the place was deserted, abandoned. Which was just as well, as Tony suspected the remains of any Hydra goon they might have encountered would fit in a shoebox by the time Steve got done with them. 

It was easy enough to find their way to the vault, and the so-called ‘equipment’ made Tony’s blood run cold. The chair -- with its thick leather straps and the hinged pieces clearly designed to wrap around the prisoner’s head -- was a torture device, pure and simple. While a small part of him itched to see the schematics, Tony was only too happy to don the gauntlets and blast the damned thing to oblivion . . . after Steve had gotten a couple of good licks in with his shield, that is. 

Wilson had made himself useful in the meantime, riffling through the file cabinets and boxes for relevant data, stuffing sheaves of paper and disks into a backpack he’d brought. They didn’t want to linger, as much for the possibility of having set off some sort of alert -- despite Tony’s thorough dismemberment of the door alarms -- as for the disquieting aura of the place. 

“You know, flyboy,” Tony stated as Wilson stepped out of the car in front of his condo, “you’re probably on Hydra’s radar at this point. There’s plenty of space back at the Tower if things get a little dicey around here.” 

“Appreciate the offer. I may take you up on it.” He gave them a quick wave before heading inside; Tony could appreciate Wilson’s desire for independence. 

Steve didn’t seem to want to talk on the flight home, so Tony started leafing through the documentation that Wilson had gathered. He wasn’t surprised to see the initials ‘AZ’ on some of the earlier notes, not after what Steve had told him about cyber-Zola’s menacing monologue. There was some definite nightmare fuel in these papers; once he’d mined them for any useful information relating to Barnes’ prosthetic and the mind control techniques, Tony was seriously considering burning the whole lot. 

But they would also be useful evidence when an attempt was made to bring the Winter Soldier to justice. Which was something probably already in process, considering that the most prominent head of Hydra was dead and therefore beyond the reach of the law. Tony had always thought there was something disconcerting about Pierce, but he had assumed it was just his normal distrust of politicians. 

He and Steve went their separate ways once back at the Tower, with Tony feeding the files to JARVIS for categorization and analysis. He tried to get some sleep, but was startled awake only a few hours later with visions of that infernal chair haunting his dreams. As usual, he went back down to the workshop to make use of his wakefulness. Not long after he arrived, JARVIS alerted him to the presence of Sergeant Barnes, standing outside the workshop door. 

“It is unclear whether he wishes to request entrance or not, Sir. His pulse is slightly elevated, and he is showing other signs of agitation.” 

“What happened to the ‘don’t be a creep’ protocols I installed, J?” 

“Considering his current mental state, I thought it wise to monitor the Sergeant. As his speed and strength are comparable to those Captain Rogers, should he run amok, he could do a great deal of damage.” 

“Aw, J, you’re such a mother hen. Open the intercom for me, would you?” Tony waited a beat, then called out. “C’mon in, Sarge. Take a load off.” 

The door slid open, and Barnes cautiously stepped inside. “Didn’t mean to disturb ya. I was just . . . restless. Your electric butler said it was okay to walk the halls as long as I didn’t go in anywhere.“ 

“Can’t sleep either, huh? Yeah -- JARVIS is used to me burning the midnight oil. There should be some coffee over there.” Tony waved toward the counter along one wall. Barnes walked over and poured two cups, bringing one over. 

Tony blinked at the unexpected gesture, then waved to an open spot on the worktable. “I don’t like being handed things.” 

Barnes shrugged and set it down. After a few awkward moments of silence, he said, “I was afraid to ask Steve what happened today; I figure it’d just stir ‘im up. Thought you might be more honest, anyways.” 

“It was a successful mission, overall,” Tony stated. “Thankfully, the place was deserted. Everything was just where you said it was, and now it’s in little pieces.” At Tony’s words, Barnes sagged, as if in relief. “We did find some papers -- JARVIS is working through them now.” 

Tensing right back up, Barnes asked, “Didja let Steve read any of it?” 

“Didn’t think that would be such a good idea right now. Or ever.” 

“Guess that’s why they call you a genius, Stark.” There was that little quirk of those entirely too-attractive lips again, and Tony suspected JARVIS was taking note of his own elevated pulse. But then Barnes withdrew into himself, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t even be here. I don’t know how you can even stand to look at me, knowing what I’ve done.” 

Tony bit back an inappropriate desire to flirt, say something along the lines of how he could look all day and never get his fill, but this was Not The Time -- if, indeed, it ever would be. Instead, he bared his own soul a little. 

“I know what it’s like to be held captive, forced to obey your captor’s whims, and suffer when you don’t. And then there’s the whole non-consensual body modification deal.” Tony pulled the neck of his already worn-out band tee down to show off the top edge of the reactor. 

The movement caught Barnes’ eye; he looked up, then that same mixture of awe and fascination from before lit up his features as he stared at the glow. “That’s the arc reactor . . . it powers your armor. And it’s the reason you can’t --” Barnes all but actually clapped his hand across his mouth, his eyes growing almost comically wide at his faux pas.

So either Steve had filled his pal in on a bit of their benefactor’s backstory or Hydra had a file on Tony Stark. Most likely, both. “Yeah, pretty much. No keelbone, no leverage for the flight muscles. Simple physics.” His response was curt, but not unkind. 

“But your wings -- they’re still intact?” From anyone else, the question would have been unconscionably rude, but Tony could cut his visitor some slack, considering his own mutilation.

“For all the good they do me, yes.” 

“Huh.” Barnes nodded thoughtfully as he took a long sip of coffee, his expression largely hidden by the mug. “Well, g’night. Thanks for the joe.” 

“Anytime, Sarge.” 

After Barnes was gone, Tony asked “Hey, J -- how long has our guest been roaming the halls?” 

“Sergeant Barnes generally spends several hours each night walking around the Tower. His usual pattern is to perform a perimeter check before running multiple flights of stairs. Neither he nor Captain Rogers require the same amount of sleep as a standard human.”

“So what does Cap do with his free time?” 

“He generally reads, watches documentaries, or sketches, although he also occasionally visits the gym.”

“Huh. Well, let Cap know he’s more than welcome to stop by the workshop if I’m up and he’s looking for some company. And give Barnes access to all public areas of the Tower, if you haven’t already.” Tony stretched and yawned. “As for this standard human, I better catch a bit more shut eye. G’night, J.” 

“Good night, Sir.” 

 

The following Monday, Tony was just about ready to start his work day when there was a loud knocking at the door. Startled, he opened it to have Steve practically run him over. “It’s Bucky,” he panted, dressed in distractingly tight workout clothing. “He’s gone. I came back after a run and the apartment was empty.” 

“JARVIS? Where is Sergeant Barnes?” Tony hoped the guy was just out wandering the tower again, but when his AI confirmed that their guest was no longer on the premises, a pang of guilt shot through him. 

“Tony, tell me you didn’t --” The hurt, disappointed look Steve gave him hit a nerve. 

“No, Cap, I didn’t run him off,” Tony responded hotly, even as he wondered if he’d said or done something to do exactly that. “But I’m not gonna keep him cooped up, either. You wanted him to be allowed his own choices, right?” 

Steve grimaced slightly and clenched his hands in frustration. “But what if something happens? What if Hydra gets a hold of him again?” 

“Let’s not borrow trouble, now.” Tony reached out to pat Steve on the shoulder before impulsively adding, “Remember that old adage: ‘if you love something, set it free’.” 

Steve pulled away from Tony’s hand, shaking his head in denial. “No, it’s not like that, I d--”

“Yes, yes you do,” Tony interrupted gently, finally having seen the pieces fall into place. “And it’s okay. Might even work into your favor publicity-wise, down the line. The public is always a sucker for star-crossed lovers.” Tony paused. “And he’s a handsome guy, now as well as then. Had a bit of a crush on him, when I was in my teens.” 

Steve blinked in confusion. “Wait a minute, Tony, you’re not...” 

“I’m not as straight as everyone seems to think,” Tony finished. “Just because I haven’t acted on my occasional attraction to other men doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.” Then, as much as to change the topic as well as to confirm the relationship, he asked, “Wait, Barnes loves you back, right? He’d be a fool not to.” 

Steve’s face softened. “He does. Said that was one of the first things he really remembered. That’s why I have to find him, have to make sure he’s okay.” At his companion’s words, Tony carefully tucked away the feelings that had started to blossom; it would have to be enough to be happy for the two of them. 

With more enthusiasm than he felt, he replied, “Well, then, how about a compromise? JARVIS, please locate Sergeant Barnes, but don’t tell anyone where he is unless he seems to have run into trouble. Can you do that for me, pal?” 

“Yes, Sir. I’m starting the search pattern algorithm now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm still working on this fic, albeit at a glacial pace. I've had a few pieces fall into place plot-wise that I think will finally get us to the finale, but the challenge is finding the time to get the words down. Your support (via kudos and comments) is much appreciated.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony sends a worried Steve out into the city on a mission and Barnes returns from a mission from his own. In the absence of a hovering Captain America, the two damaged souls take a few more steps toward developing their friendship.

The rest of the week was a tense one around the tower; while Tony had SI business to focus on, Steve had very little to keep him otherwise occupied while he worried about Bucky. Finally, Tony hit on the brilliant idea of having Steve don the Captain America uniform and make the rounds of the children’s hospitals in the city. 

“Happy can drive. And think of how many kids will be thrilled to see you.” Steve could hardly argue against going without sounding like a jerk, so Tony had his new PA make the arrangements. When Steve brought up the idea of being joined by IronMan, Tony claimed a day full of meetings as the reason he couldn’t come along. As the two of them filled the trunk of the towncar with toys and gadgets for the kids, Steve put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. 

“Promise me you’ll air out those wings of yours today, preferably outside. Send me a photo as proof.” Without Barnes around to mollycoddle, it seems Steve had focused back on him. Which, Tony had to admit, he had missed a little. 

“Deal -- but only if you send me photos of you and the kiddos.” Steve’s smile was at least twenty percent real as he slid into the back seat. 

 

The sun was in the western sky before Tony had a chance to make good on his promise. There was an advantage to having one of the tallest buildings in Midtown; less chance of stray paparazzi, especially with the eight foot tall one-way glass barrier he had installed around the open air patio of the Tower’s penthouse. JARVIS was quite skilled at taking electronic potshots at the occasional drone that buzzed the tower, forcing it to a landing on the nearby rooftops. He would then send an email to the drone’s owner telling them where to pick it up. Everyone needed a hobby, even AIs. 

The weather was warm and on the muggy side, so Tony had changed into a pair of shorts and replaced his undershirt and binder with a tank top slit up the back. He had to admit, the sunshine did feel good on his wings, even if the slight breeze ruffling his feathers was a painful reminder of what he could no longer have. He’d sent Steve the requested photo, and was idly watching the ferries and other marine traffic on the East River on the when JARVIS spoke up. “Sergeant Barnes has re-entered the building. Shall I inform Captain Rogers?” 

Tony was torn -- while Steve would obviously want to know that his best buddy was safe and back home, maybe Barnes could use a bit of a breather before mother-hen Rogers was back on the job. “Hold off for just a bit, would you, J? Don’t want to cheat the sick kids out of a chance to meet their hero.” 

“As you say, Sir.” JARVIS sounded faintly disapproving, as he so often did. So perhaps it was a bit of payback when he failed to inform Tony that Barnes had come all the way up to the patio. There was a noise, a scuff of a boot that was probably deliberate. Tony whirled around, wings mantling instinctively around him. Barnes was standing a few yards away, holding a large duffle in one hand, the other half-raised in a gesture of reassurance and apology. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle ya.” 

Tony relaxed, retracting his wings. “Welcome back, Sergeant.” 

“Wasn’t sure how welcome I’d be,” he replied, “so I brought some presents.” Barnes set the duffle down and it made a distinctive, metallic clunk. Guns, and lots of them. He then shrugged off a backpack, wincing as a strap caught and dragged against his tightly furled wings. “Raided a coupla Hydra safe houses. Found some files n’ stuff you might be able t’ use.” He was wearing a long-sleeved work shirt to help disguise the prosthetic, but despite the heat, Barnes seemed to have barely broken a sweat. 

“Run into any trouble?” 

“A little, but not for long.” Barnes’ slow reply, along with the cold glint in his eye sent a shiver down Tony’s spine. But he couldn’t throw any stones when it came to wreaking revenge, now could he? Not after Gulmira. “Why didn’t you ‘n Steve come after me?” Barnes sounded honestly surprised. 

“Didn’t know where you were.” Barnes raised a skeptical eyebrow. “No, really. I asked JARVIS to find and keep an eye on you, but not tell us unless it looked like you were in trouble. Your boyfriend wasn’t real happy about that, mind you.” 

At the word “boyfriend,” Barnes tensed up, so Tony continued. “No judgement here; Cap’s an awfully handsome guy, and besides, it’s legal now.” 

“Speaking of Captain Rogers,” JARVIS cut in, “he’s calling now. Shall I put him through?” 

“Go ahead, J.” 

“Hi, Tony.” Steve sounded a bit tired, but more at ease than he’d been all week. “Just finished my final visit of the day. You were right, this was a good idea. Took my mind off things for a while.” 

“Glad to hear it. You had a good idea, as well. I’m out on the patio, enjoying the sun and breeze.”

“I’m here too, Stevie. Just got back.” Tony was thankful Barnes had spoken up and taken the decision out of his hands. 

“Bucky? Oh, thank god. Are you okay?” Steve’s words tumbled out, his relief all too clear. 

“Yeah. Sorry to make ya worry. Just had t’ take care of a few things.” 

“You coulda left a note or something, ya jerk.” Despite the insult, there was fondness in Steve’s voice. 

“Guess I took the stupid with me, punk.” Barnes actually smiled and Tony had to look away before his own expression betrayed him. “When ya gonna be back?” 

They heard a mumbled exchange, before Steve responded, “Happy says traffic’s pretty bad. At least another half-hour to forty-five minutes before we get back.” 

“I can order something in, have food here when you arrive,” Tony offered. 

“That’d be great, Tony. Thanks. We’ll get back soon as we can. G’bye.” 

After Steve signed off, Barnes turned to Tony. “What’d you mean, about it bein’ legal?” 

“You and Steve. Same-sex couples can get married now, adopt kids, make medical decisions for one another, all that important stuff,” Tony replied. “Sure, there’s still the occasional bigoted asshole who tries to make trouble, but for the most part, it’s live and let live. That said, Cap’s still pretty much keeping his proclivities to himself.” Tony paused, then figured he might as well out himself to Barnes before Steve inadvertently did. “For that matter, so am I.” 

“Ya mean you go for fellas, too?” Tony wasn’t sure if the note of interest in Barnes’ voice was simply his imagination, so he replied as matter-of-factly as he could. 

“Not that I’ve done much about it, but yes, I am attracted to men as well as women.” In an effort to change the subject, he walked over to the backpack that Barnes had brought with him, nudging it with one foot. “Mind if I take this downstairs and dig in?” 

“S’why I brought it back with me. That and the hardware -- wanted to get as much as possible out of their hands.” At Barnes’ invitation, Tony swung the bag up on one shoulder; it was heavier than he’d expected, and his wings flared out to help him keep his balance. He glanced up and caught a flash of emotion crossing Barnes’ face -- perhaps envy, or sorrow? 

“Feel free to hang out up here for a bit,” Tony waved around the patio. “There’s a fridge with drinks over there, if you’re thirsty. Might be worthwhile to give your feathers an airing out.” He kept his tone light, as if he were making an offhand comment. 

Barnes let out a soft huff. “Ya sound like Stevie.” 

“Sometimes our mutual friend is worth listening to.” 

As Tony turned to go inside, Barnes said, “Ya don’t hafta go. Nothin’ in there that can’t wait.” 

“Okay.” Tony recognized the unspoken invitation. “JARVIS, would you call in an order to Luigi’s? Four extra-large pies, two supreme, one pepperoni, and one cheese.” 

“Certainly, Sir.” 

Tony set the knapsack back down and went to the fridge. “Wet your whistle, Sarge?” 

“Please. Got any beer?” Tony took out two bottles and handed one over to Barnes. 

“Thanks.” He proceeded to run the cool bottle across his forehead before grabbing the hem of his shirt to twist the cap off, exposing a sliver of taut abs. If it had been anyone else, Tony would wonder if he were being flirted with, but he knew better. The shared history between the two super-soldiers -- not to mention Steve’s physical perfection -- there was no way Tony could compete with that. 

Instead, he grabbed a chair and spun it around to sit backwards, letting his wings spread into a relaxed, open position. Maybe, for once in his life, Tony Stark could set a good example. But before he could think of a conversation opener that wouldn’t make things awkward, his companion started unbuttoning his shirt. 

Steve had mentioned how Barnes had a layer of none-too-clean bandages wrapped around his torso when he’d brought him back to the Tower, presumably he’d been wearing them to flatten the profile of his wings. No such disguise was in evidence today; Tony tried very hard not to stare as Barnes’ well-muscled chest and abs were revealed, along with a ridge of scars confirming the permanent nature of the metal arm. 

Barnes turned away, grasping the back of his chair as he slowly unfurled his wings. The newsreels and Steve’s description hadn’t done them justice. While the feathers were unkempt, with quills bent and broken, the deep brown of his markings contrasted beautifully with the rich cream base of his plumage. The arc and sweep of his coverts was elegant, highlighting the power beneath. It all made the truncation of those beautiful wings -- missing a good six to eight inches of the tip -- irredeemably cruel. 

Barnes let out a deep, shuddering breath which Tony credited both to the physical and emotional exertion. But then he gathered himself and strode quickly to the glass wall surrounding the patio. Before Tony knew it, Barnes was scaling the wall. He placed one hand on the edge and pulled himself up as if to climb over it. 

Tony froze for a moment before realizing what the other man intended. “Bucky, no! Wait!” He dashed over to keep his friend from making the final sacrifice. 

Bucky, in turn, looked at Tony quizzically as he dropped back to the floor. “I was just checkin’ the thickness of the glass. Seein’ if it was bulletproof. Did you think I was gonna....” He tilted his head toward the wall, mimicking the arc of a fall. He then pointedly glanced down at where Tony’s hand was still wrapped around his wrist. 

Tony let go, face flushing as he answered belligerently, “Well, yeah. Can you blame me, though?” He swept his other hand -- not the one that still tingled from the contact -- towards the bags on the patio. “Figured that was the equivalent of passing along your prized possessions.” 

Bucky gave Tony a long look. “Not that it ain’t occurred to me,” he admitted, “but I’ve done too much to take the easy way out.” He stepped back, putting some distance between the two of them. “Why’d ya call me ‘Bucky’ instead of ‘Sarge,’ like ya usually do?”

“Figured you’d respond better to your actual name.”

Bucky’s wings sagged as his face grew pensive. “Not sure that’s who I am anymore, not really.” 

Tony could understand the sentiment. “Do you want to be called something else?”

He received a shrug in reply. “Dunno.” 

“How about J.B.? Steve said you never went by your first name, except when you had to.” He shrugged again, but he seemed to be giving it some thought. 

“Speaking of Captain Rogers,” JARVIS broke in, “he and Mister Hogan have just pulled into the garage.” 

Retracting his wings with a snap, J.B. took a few quick steps and retrieved his shirt, As he put it back on, Tony said, “You don’t need to do that. I can tell Happy not to come up if that would make you more comfortable.”

“‘S not him,” his companion muttered, expression shuttered once again. “Stevie, he don’t need more reminders of what they done to me.” 

“He loves you,” Tony protested. “It shouldn’t matter.” 

“It matters to me,” J.B. shot back, bitterness clear in his tone. He stalked over to the stairwell and was gone before Tony could say another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep - still plugging away on this, little by little. I do know where the story needs to go to finish up this fic — it’s time and energy that are the stumbling blocks. 
> 
> If you like what you’re seeing so far - please let me know! Kudos and comments feed the Muse!

**Author's Note:**

> So, the original WinterIron plan may be going full Stark Spangled Winter instead... I'm still puzzling out the story, so be patient when it comes to updates, please and thank you.


End file.
